


Chrystallis Memoria

by Lockea



Category: Dissidia: Final Fantasy
Genre: 1000 words, Character Study, Drabble, Gen, In which we ponder our navels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-08
Updated: 2011-05-08
Packaged: 2017-11-04 01:40:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lockea/pseuds/Lockea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What do you remember?"</p><p>If one asked, and all would tell, they might realize just what it is they all have in common with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chrystallis Memoria

_"What do you remember?"_

It's a question that no one asks, because everyone is afraid to know what the others will say. Do they remember happy times? Or times when there was sadness, darkness, despair? Gathered around their nightly campfire in contemplative silence, they all think their own stories, not realizing that in voice there is comfort. In stories there is healing.

"I remember green." One thinks, but does not say. "I remember a story that is not my own, a life I never lived. I remember a man we all looked up to, called a hero, but he lost his way and lost his mind. I remember desperately trying to stay afloat in a sea of my own illusions."

Perhaps, maybe, if he were not so recalcitrant, he might speak these words aloud and find, gratefully, that he is not alone.

"I don't remember." She might say back to him. "I was a slave – his slave The Empire used my people to conduct the experiments that eventually resulted in him, but he was flawed and went mad with power. He used his power and robbed me of my memories and my will, and I became a pawn during his descent into madness."

They might find comfort in each other, if only they were brave enough to speak aloud. They might find healing in a past that echoes eerily similar to one another, as if they are kindred spirits even across the other worlds. But though neither would flinch in the face of battle, it takes a different sort of bravery to bare the soul, crack the shell, and let others see what lies within. It's a bravery none of them possess.

Another might sigh because his story is just the opposite. "I remember freedom." He would say longingly. "I remember the wind in my hair and the lightness of never having roots. The road was my home, and every day a new adventure."

"I remember longing for adventure." The smallest and youngest would add. "I remember bravery like a sword and courage like a shield. I remember feeling drawn to my friends, called by a light beyond my own. Adventure like wings of a bird."

"I remember some parts of my past, but I don't remember others." The most withdrawn of them might offer then. Or he might not, because he believes that to open up to others would be to allow them power over him, the power to hurt him. Having been hurt once, he might not open up again. "I remember abandonment, of growing up alone and reliant on myself. Once I was not alone, but somehow everyone went away, and no one told me why. I found it easier not to let someone in than to open up and let myself be abandoned again."

"I was an orphan." One would say, and all would look up. It's one common thread through all their stories. They might tie themselves together by it. Until one shrugs and adds on, "Close enough to one, anyway."

Of course another would laugh, for not every member of their team is somber and recalcitrant, haunted by memories that are painful. "I remember longing for a family." He would say. "I made a family out of people unrelated to me, and it filled a void in my heart. I travelled the world trying to find my birth family, but when I failed I realized I had succeeded. Though not bound by birth, they were my family. It wouldn't be until later that I would find my brother and my sister."

"I remember my family." Quietly, and with pain in his voice, the next would speak. "I remember when happiness bloomed in our hometown like the roses in May. I remember innocence's end, and the way flames licked the night sky, burning like the rage in my heart."

The story of a home destroyed would echo with many of them, for the loss of those you love always hurts the most. "I remember destruction not by flame, but by water." A pause, this silence. "Everything I knew was a lie, including what I thought I knew about my father. I've always been chasing after him, desperate for his approval." This is everything he would not say, for he is proud and stubborn. He would rather smile and lie than truly admit what inside he must feel.

"Approval." Another would muse. "I remember how desperately I sought that as well. Approval from the king who raised me. In his name, I raised a blade of war and slaughtered dozens of innocent people. Though inside I recoiled from the violence, I still continued forth as he commanded me. With my hands stained in blood, I began a journey to redeem myself, but when I close my eyes, I remember the screams of the innocent as they died because of me."

What do they remember? Dreams, hopes, aspirations, despair, pain, redemption. The list goes on and on, as everyone remembers something different from one another. Finally, one last warrior would speak up.

"What do I remember?" He would say. "I remember cycles and circles, endings and beginnings. I remember being called by a power greater than my own, called to end the cycle of evil which had continued unbroken for far too long. I remember a story that began with an awakening, and ended where it began."

In this one last story, all can relate. They are tied by threads like spider's silk, bound one to another. Called forth by the goddess to fight. If only they could speak to one another. If only they weren't so damaged, so broken, and so very tired of this fight that they could find, in one another, a new source of courage. So here they linger, by campfire's light, in silence. Each one thinks, but does not say aloud, because they are terribly afraid to know what the others will say.

"What do you remember?"

_Chrystallis Memoria – the Crystal Memory._

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally written as a sort of Mother's Day gift for my mom, who got me addicted to video games by reading the dialog of Final Fantasy VI (back when it was on the SNES as III) out loud to me, and for continuing to be patiently enduring of her daughter's rather odd obsession with the games.
> 
> The characters, you'll note, were not named in this story. Part of the fun is guessing who each character is based on their canon backstories. Here are the answers, in order from first to last: Cloud (FF7), Terra (FF6), Bartz (FF5), Onion Knight (FF3), Squall (FF8), Zidane (FF9), Firion (FF2), Tidus (FF10), Cecil (FF4), Warrior of Light (FF). In the middle, I imagine the second input about not actually being an orphan to be attributed to Tidus, even though it might better apply to Squall.


End file.
